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Prologue
The small figure of the boy lay huddled and shivering on the bed as the three men filed out of the room, laughing and joking. They were the last for the night, so the tall man with dark hair brought in the tall man with the strange nose who was supposedly a doctor to look him over. The doctor examined the boy’s bruised, chafed wrists, rubbed raw from the manacles he’d been forced to wear intermittently throughout the day. He poked and prodded at his bruised ribs as the boy hissed in pain. The dark-haired man grabbed onto his legs, holding them up and apart as the doctor stuck two dry, calloused fingers inside him to examine the damage. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth against the pain, but managed not to cry out.
"The usual tearing, nothing to worry about," the doctor announced. The other man nodded in acknowledgement. The doctor pulled supplies from the black medical bag he’d brought in. The boy felt a cold steel instrument shoved none-too gently inside his ass and winced. A few adjustments from the doctor and his sphincter was painfully stretched wide open. Tears pricked at the boy’s eyes as he tensed, knowing what would come next. Sure enough, there was sharp, stabbing pain as the doctor began to stitch the worst of the tears inside his rectum with thin, dissolving inner body surgical thread. The tears spilled from the boy’s eyes to mingle with the dried tracks on his cheeks. His fingers dug into the soiled sheets in a white-knuckled death grip, and he bit his lip so hard he tasted coppery blood in his mouth. Instinctively, his body tried to squirm away from the piercing agony, but the dark-haired man’s tightened grip on his legs was warning enough to stop. As the torture wore on for what seemed like an eternity,
he couldn’t help but let out a few hitching sobs. The man smirked at him, amused by his distress. Finally, the doctor finished and withdrew the speculum. He declared the boy fit for tomorrow, and left the room.
The dark-haired man released the boy’s legs and using a small key, proceeded to adjust the lead on the chain shackled to his left ankle to its maximum length, about twelve feet. He half-dragged, half-carried the trembling boy over to the bathing area. It was little more than a recessed closet with a drain in the cement floor and a rusty showerhead. The boy was dumped on the cold floor and handed the scrubbing brush and soap from the small shelf in the corner. Stepping outside, the man punched in the code on the control panel to turn the water on. The boy now had five minutes to get himself as clean as possible before the water was automatically shut off by the timer.
The boy gratefully let the lukewarm water run over his head, soaking his long chestnut hair. Forcing his aching and bruised arms to move as quickly as possible, he lathered up with the soap and proceeded to scrub at the dried blood and semen that covered his thin body. Every second was precious, though he knew that he could scrub for an hour until his skin was raw and bleeding and he still would not feel clean. As he washed himself, he took the opportunity to swallow mouthfuls of the shower water, trying to ease the discomfort in his dry, parched throat, which was raw from screaming. The man watched quietly, a smirk on his face. The boy had just rinsed the last of the soap from his hair when the water stopped. He was handed a towel and a comb, and then left shivering on the floor to dry himself and untangle his hair while the man moved about the room, cleaning up. The "toys" were washed in the sink near the door and then put away in the locked cabinet. The floor was quickly and carelessly mopped. The chamberpot under the bed was exchanged for the clean one waiting outside the door. Finally, the soiled bedsheets were changed, the old ones set outside the door to be brought to the laundry.
By the time the man was done, the boy had finished with his hair as well, so he dragged him back over to the bed. The man paused, giving the shivering boy an appraising leer as he held him by his left upper-arm in a vise-like grip. With his other hand he reached up and softly, almost lovingly, caressed the boy’s cheek. He mused that even as thin as he was, and covered in bruises, welts, and scars, the boy was still beautiful, a fallen angel. That long, seductive fall of chestnut hair, those stunning amethyst eyes. It was like he was begging to be fucked.
Suddenly he backhanded the boy across the face, hard. The boy’s head snapped back, but he managed not to cry out. The man harshly tugged down on his arm, and the boy obediently fell to his knees. He stared at the floor as the man unzipped his pants, releasing his erection. The man sunk his hands into damp chestnut hair, pulling the boy’s head forward, and proceeded to violently fuck his mouth. The boy struggled not to gag as the man’s cock rammed the back of his throat again and again. Finally the man came with a shout, releasing his seed. The boy choked as his mouth filled with the slimy, salty fluid, but he managed to swallow every drop. He knew the man would be furious if he spilled any.
Sated, the man pulled him up and tossed him back onto the bed, the chain shackled to his ankle clanking noisily against the iron frame. Once again he adjusted the chain’s lead, leaving only a few feet, just enough for the boy to get up and use the chamberpot if he needed to. The man turned to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to give the boy, who once again lay huddled and shivering on the bed, one last appraising look.
"Sweet dreams, Duo," he smirked. With that he flipped off the lights and shut and locked the door, sending the room, and its quietly sobbing occupant, into pitch-darkness.
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***
Part 1
Heero Yuy looked up as Quatre Raberba Winner and Trowa Barton entered the briefing room, frowning at their lateness.
"You’re late," he informed them sternly. "If it were not for the fact that Chief Une has not yet arrived herself, you would both be in trouble, and that would reflect badly on all of us. Wufei and I managed to get here on time, you should have no trouble doing so as well." From his seat next to him, his partner, Chang Wufei, smirked. He knew how seriously Heero took their reputation. The four of them had been friends since childhood, and all four had joined the Preventer Academy straight out of high school. They had graduated from the four-month training program as the top four students in the class, and had thusly been paired up when assigned partners. They had quickly earned great respect and admiration within the Preventers for their excellent work. Only last month, the four of them had been transferred to the elite Preventer Special Crime Unit, also known as the Specials, something virtually unheard of for agents so young, only twenty-one years old. Heero was very concerned that they live up to their excellent reputation and not give Chief Une cause to regret her decision to recruit them into her Unit. Tardiness was unacceptable, even if Chief Une was late as well.
"Sorry, Heero, Trowa had a little car trouble. If the two of you hadn’t already left, we could have gotten a lift with you," Quatre said, playfully defensive. The four of them shared a large, sprawling mansion, Quatre’s gift from his family upon his graduation from the Academy. "At least Chief Une isn’t here to see that we’re late. I wonder where she is, anyway? She’s never late for the morning briefing!"
"Hn," Heero scowled. He, too, was curious as to what could be keeping her. Their wait was over, though, as Chief Une came striding into the room, her face especially grim, with her second-in-command, Captain Lucrezia Noin, trailing after her, an equally grim look on her face.
"Whatever it was that was keeping her, it looks serious," Wufei remarked softly. The others silently nodded their agreement.
Une turned to address the twelve members of the Preventer Special Crime Unit. "I apologize for my lateness, but a very important matter has come to my attention. We have a new case and it is to be given top priority." She nodded to Noin, who went to the computer terminal and inserted a disk. She typed a few keys, and an image of a run-down two-story building came up on the overhead-viewing screen. Quatre shivered when he saw it. Trowa shot him a questioning look, but all he could do was shrug. The building gave him the creeps, though he could not say why.
The chief motioned at the screen. "This building at 7881 Pine St. is believed to be the location of a brothel. The local PD have apparently known of its existence for some time, but did nothing, reflecting their policy that if the prostitutes are not out on the street, and are therefore ‘out of sight, out of mind’, then they are not their problem." Une sneered, showing her contempt for this lax attitude. "However, they had a disturbing visit yesterday, from a local small-time crook known to them as an informant that they’d used several times in the past. This man claimed to have visited the brothel in search of a good time, but had been horrified to discover that it was not your ‘run-of-the mill’ establishment." Heero glanced at his friends, and he could tell from the looks on their faces that just like him, they were getting incredibly bad feelings about this.
Une continued, her face showing her own distaste. "He said that when he went to this brothel, swearing that he was looking only for adult female company, the proprietor offered him a selection of underage prostitutes of both sexes. He was also told that they had a ‘special’ selection, with whom he could do just about anything he wanted, ‘whether the kid liked it or not’, as he put it. The informant claims that he was horrified, particularly when he was shown the young boy… chained to a bed in a small, windowless room in the basement." Une’s body quivered with repressed rage and disgust. Most of the agents in the room stared at her, since they had never seen the normally implacable chief so worked up before. Not that they could blame her, there was not a single person in the room who was not horrified at the idea of a human being… a child being chained to a bed and forced to sexually service clients.
"The informant says that he was also asked if he was interested in renting or purchasing a video from their considerable library, featuring the prostitutes with clients willing to be filmed. He says that he fled the place, wanting nothing to do with such perversions, and decided to report them to the police. So what we have here is a case of forced child prostitution and pornography. Like I said, this is now our top priority. Captain Noin and I have come up with the loose outline of a plan. We will spend today hammering out the details and then put the plan into action tonight if possible, tomorrow morning at the absolute latest. Now that we know this place exists, we’re going to put them out of business as quickly as possible. I’m going to assign several of you to digging up all the information you can on the building’s owners, see if you can figure out who’s responsible, how long they’ve been in business, etc. Another team will get blueprints for the location and the surrounding buildings as well. Work out the preliminary plans for a raid, coordinating with the Medical Unit. We don’t know what kind of condition the people we find inside are going to be in. Captain Noin will hand out those assignments."
She paused, taking a deep breath. Heero suddenly realized that it was taking all of her considerable self-control to keep her emotions in check. She turned her attention to them. "Agent Winner and Agent Barton, you are being assigned to reconnaissance. 7881 Pine St. is to be put under immediate surveillance. I want a photographic record of everyone who enters and leaves the building, got it?" They both nodded solemnly. "You are to leave as soon as this briefing is concluded. Now, Agent Yuy and Agent Chang, I have a special assignment for you two. You are going to interview this informant for any and all useful information, and then Agent Yuy is going to infiltrate the brothel this afternoon while Agent Chang provides backup."
"Infiltrate, Chief?" Heero asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"You will go to the brothel posing as a client. That way you can get a look at the inside of the place and confirm the informant’s information. Also, since you will be left alone with one of the prostitutes for a little while, you can see if you can get any information from them." She turned to once again address the room at large. "Okay, that’s it people. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how important this case is. Those needing assignments report to Captain Noin. Agents Yuy and Chang, follow me. Our informant is waiting."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Duo blinked into wakefulness, wiping the dried tears from his eyes. Though the room was pitch-black, his internal clock told him that it was nearly morning. He stretched his aching limbs, wincing at the sharp pain that stabbed up through his body from his ass. He stared up through the black emptiness that mirrored the emptiness inside him. He didn’t want to be awake. He wanted to sleep forever. He sighed, the familiar ache in his heart tightening.
Groaning, Duo pulled himself up to a sitting position. He knew that he really should get off the bed and stretch his muscles as much as he could. It would not be long before the dark-haired man, Trant, brought him his breakfast, and after that, it would begin… the endless procession of men coming to hurt him. He shuddered.
Duo carefully slid off the bed, his entire body protesting. He knelt on the floor, reaching under the bed for the chamberpot. After emptying his bladder, he slid it back and gingerly climbed to his feet. He could barely stand up straight, he was in so much pain. Each and every last bruise, cut and welt on his body announced its presence with dull throbbing aches or sharp stinging pain. But it was not something he was unaccustomed to, and he started to pace back and forth across the couple of feet the chain shackled to his ankle allowed him, trying to loosen up his muscles. These early morning ‘walks’ were the only real exercise he ever got. He felt perpetually weak enough as it was, and he never knew when he might be hurt badly enough to be confined to the bed for a few days. Sometimes he felt like his muscles were going to waste away.
The pain getting the better of him, Duo eased himself down so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, why he didn’t just let himself wither away and die. It’s not like he was ever going to get out of here. He’d given up that hope long ago. And he couldn’t even remember the last time he wasn’t in pain. He hurt so much, all the time. Every movement was a painful reminder of the hell he lived in every day. His hands moved to touch the iron collar at his throat. It’s weight was a reminder as well, that his life was not his own, that the people who kept him here considered him their property. Him especially.
Duo shuddered again. It had been some time since he had paid a visit to his ‘pet’ so he would probably be back sometime soon. The man who haunted Duo’s dreams. The man who had brought him here, so long ago. He had never known his name. The man had never shown him such a courtesy as an introduction. Back then there had still been a hint of blonde in the man’s hair, but now it was completely grey. The lines on his aged face seemed to have grown deeper each time he came. Duo wondered for the millionth time just how long he’d been here. It felt like an eternity. Sometimes it was even hard to remember a time before, as if his entire life had been spent in this room, though Duo knew that wasn’t true. He had brought him here, the details of his life before that could just be… fuzzy at times, lost in distant memory. Perhaps it was just too painful, remembering that he had not always lived like this.
Just then the door was opened and the lights turned on, bathing the room in sickly yellow light. Duo squinted his eyes at the onslaught, waiting for them to adjust.
"So, how’s the star attraction this morning? Up to another day?" Trant sneered as he entered the room, carrying a tray. Duo remained silent. Trant placed the tray on the bed and Duo reached for the bowl of tasteless mush that was his breakfast. He ate mechanically while Trant once again changed the chamberpot. After the mush there was the handful of pills. Several vitamin and mineral tablets. Wouldn’t want the ‘star attraction’ to die from malnutrition. A strong calcium supplement was included amongst those, to make his bones harder to break, though customers still did manage to do so now and then. A stool softener, so as not to cause any more damage to his already abused rectum, though once again that was more to keep him able to see customers rather than for any concern for his pain. He was also never given solid food for the same reason. He washed the pills down with a large glass of water. He would receive the same bowl of mush and glass of water between customers sometime in the early evening, and that was it for sustenance. Duo sometimes marveled at the fact that he was even alive, with a diet like that. It was no mystery why he was little more than skin and bones. Once Duo was finished, Trant handed him the comb for his hair, and stood leering at him while he worked the knots out.
"I’ve got a feeling that today’s going to be really busy. Early morning and there’s already a couple of customers waiting for you. Bet you can’t wait, huh?" Trant said, his voice dripping with maliciousness. Duo merely shrugged, averting his eyes. He never knew what to do around Trant. The man was so volatile. He finished his hair and returned the comb, and was given a damp cloth from the sink to wash the sleep off his face. When he was done Trant started to caress his cheek, and then he leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "Just consider yourself lucky that you do have people waiting, it’s been awhile since I’ve given you a proper fucking. Guess it’ll just have to wait until tonight. Pity. But I know you’ll be looking forward to it, you little slut." With that he ran his tongue up the side of Duo’s face and then shoved him hard, so that he went sprawling back onto the bed. Laughing, Trant picked up the tray and headed out the door. "I’ll be back in a few minutes with the first one, Duo, don’t you worry your pretty little head," he sneered as he closed the door behind him.
Duo turned onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a tight embrace. He would not cry, not now. There would be plenty of tears later, when he wouldn’t be able to stop them. He shivered, and it was not just from the cold. Another day. Another long, endless day of pain and torture. Why couldn’t he just die?
* * * * * * * * * *
Trowa turned the keys in the ignition, shutting off the surveillance van’s motor. They were parked on the opposite side of Pine St., and a few buildings down, but still had an excellent view of the front door. From the outside, the van’s windows looked heavily tinted, making it nearly impossible to see inside, though the view from the inside was un-obscured. The van itself was light grey, unmarked, and totally unremarkable in every way. They shouldn’t draw any unwanted attention from the low-lifes in the neighbourhood.
Quatre eyed 7881 Pine St. uneasily. The bad feeling he’d gotten when he’d seen the picture of the building back at headquarters was magnified tenfold now that he was seeing it in person. He still couldn’t pinpoint the source of his discomfort. The brick building looked perfectly ordinary, if a little rundown, though that was far from unusual for this neighbourhood. It just seemed somehow… sinister. He sighed and reached into the bag at his feet for the surveillance camera. The silence was beginning to unnerve him.
"So, do you think it’s true, Trowa? That they have some kid chained up in this place?" The words twisted his stomach even as he said them. The very idea was just so… sickening.
Trowa was quiet for a moment before responding. "It’s not pleasant to think it’s possible, but we have to accept that it is. It’s why the Special Crime Unit exists, to handle cases of a… sensitive nature. Like child slavery. We all have to learn to keep a certain amount of emotional distance from our work if we’re going to be able to handle working in the Specials." He patted Quatre’s leg reassuringly.
Quatre blushed slightly. Trowa may have said ‘we’ but he was really only referring to Quatre. The others never seemed to have a problem with emotional distance. Not that they were cold-hearted, quite the opposite in fact. He knew that his lover and his two friends were very caring people. They just seemed to be able to draw the line, something Quatre often failed to do. He was glad, at least, that Trowa was his partner, in work as well as life. As long as he had him by his side, he was pretty sure he could handle whatever the Specials threw at him.
"Quatre," Trowa said, and nodded toward the building. Quatre looked and saw that there was a man approaching the door. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and looked to be in his mid-fifties. His heavily lined face was remarkably unattractive, as was his chin-length haircut. His stylish business suit was decidedly out of place. Quatre lifted the camera and took several shots as the man opened the door and stepped inside.
"Who goes to a brothel in the middle of the morning?" he scowled. Trowa shot him a sidelong glance and actually chuckled.
"Oh? And what exactly is the ‘proper’ time of day to go to a brothel?" he asked with a sly smile.
"Oh, leave me alone," Quatre grumbled, lifting the camera to photograph the pair of men stepping out of the building.
* * * * * * * * * *
After Trant closed the door behind himself and the pair of men, Duo lay curled on the bed, shivering and gasping. He could still feel blood and cum trickling from between his legs. He fought the urge to vomit, swallowing several times in a vain attempt to rid his mouth of the slimy taste of semen. His head was really pounding. They’d beat him, the cries of pain they’d wrung from him fueling their excitement, before finally raping him, one forcing his cock into his mouth while the other jammed his cock into his ass. The pain was so intense it fogged his vision.
The door opened and Trant reappeared, accompanied by his next client, a tall, broad-shouldered businessman. Tubarov, one of his regulars. Duo’s eyes widened with fear. The man was a brutal sadist.
"Doesn’t our little Duo look pleased to see you, Tubarov?" Trant snickered as he handed the man the small key to Duo’s leg chain, which every customer received, and the key to the toy cabinet, which cost extra. "Have fun!" With that Trant was gone.
During his time in the room, Duo had had the misfortune of meeting a lot of cruel and sadistic people, but Tubarov ranked amongst the worst. He eyed the man with growing terror as he casually began to remove his clothing, carefully folding and setting it on the shelf next to the sink. Wouldn’t want to return to the office with blood and cum on his suit now would he, Duo thought bitterly. Once he was completely naked Duo noticed with dismay that the man was already semi-hard.
Giving him a cold-eyed look, Tubarov turned to the cabinet and unlocked it, swinging the doors wide open. The bottom consisted of a bin filled with miscellaneous items. Above that were a few shelves, and then finally a couple of rows of hooks. The man’s gaze swept over the selection before he reached for a coil of rope hanging on one of the hooks. He turned his attention to Duo.
Duo watched the man approach the bed with widening eyes. Fear coiled in the pit of his stomach, every muscle in his body tensing painfully. He felt absolutely helpless. Tubarov’s eyes glinted with malice as he backhanded him hard across the face, stunning him. He flipped him over onto his stomach, pulling his arms back and behind him until his forearms were parallel at the small of his back, then lashing them tightly together with the rope. It put a painful amount of pressure on his shoulders, and Duo knew it would not be long before the muscles would be cramping. He tried to take deep, even breaths, but his shallow, hitching gasps were threatening to send him into a full-blown panic attack. He struggled to squirm away as Tubarov continued to position his body, lifting him up onto his knees. Without his arms to support him, his ass was stuck up in the air while his head was buried in the thin pillow, his upper-body weight being supported by his neck and shoulders. He had to turn his face to the side to keep from suffocating. Tubarov’s fingers dug painfully into his bruised hips, eliciting a whimper.
"You know better than to struggle, Duo," Tubarov said, his voice low and dangerous. Duo immediately ceased squirming, his muscles quivering both from fear and from the uncomfortable strain of the awkward position. From the corner of his eye Duo saw Tubarov walk away from the bed and then return with a meter-long spreader bar from the cabinet. He shackled it to Duo’s ankles, forcing his legs wide apart. Duo felt a hand run over his ass, and then cried out when two dry fingers were suddenly forced into his already sore anus. As suddenly as they had appeared, the fingers were withdrawn. Duo waited, trembling. He knew that Tubarov was standing at the cabinet, choosing what toy he’d play with today. He closed his eyes, which were already threatening to spill tears. Tubarov always chose the most tortuous items from that damned cabinet….
His eyes flew open in shock and he screamed as he heard the crackle of electricity and his right side suddenly exploded with white-hot pain. The stun baton. Tubarov was standing at the side of the bed, pressing the stun baton into Duo’s side. His eyes glinted as Duo screamed and screamed, his vision starting to go black, until he finally released the switch. Duo sagged as much as his position allowed him, panting hard. Every nerve in his body felt singed. He screamed again as the stun baton once again made contact with his skin, this time at his abdomen. Tubarov moved around the bed, pressing the stun baton against random spots all over Duo’s body, his back, his legs, his ass, no place was spared. Sometimes he would hold it there for only a split second, sometimes for as long as a minute. Duo’s throat was raw from screaming, and he turned his face into the pillow, white sparks exploding behind his closed eyelids. His head was swimming, and he thought for sure that he was going to pass out at any moment. He could barely even draw a breath. Finally, the onslaught stopped. Duo gasped hitching breaths, the pillow beneath his face damp from his tears. His nerves were singing with pain and his muscles twitched involuntarily, the strain of the unnatural position and the electric shocks simply too much.
Suddenly his head was jerked to the side as Tubarov forced him to look at him. Duo’s eyes widened and his heart hammered in his chest as he saw what the man was holding. "N-no… please… please don’t…" he begged, his voice a hoarse whisper. Tubarov merely sneered and unscrewed the cap off the tube of lubrication he held, and then began to apply the lube to the stun baton in slow, even strokes. Duo’s mind revolted, and he began to sob and whimper piteously. It was something Tubarov had done before, and he couldn’t think of anything that caused a comparable amount of agony. Tubarov watched him avidly, enjoying his pain and fear. Then he disappeared from Duo’s line of view as he moved towards the end of the bed. Duo panicked. He didn’t care about any possible consequences; nothing could hurt as much as what Tubarov was planning anyway. He began to struggle against his bonds furiously, but his abused muscles were so cramped and weakened that he could do little more than squirm. He felt Tubarov kneel on the bed between his spread legs, and then the stun baton, not yet activated, was being forced into his sore anus, sending waves of pain along his spine. Once he had slid it in as far as it could go, Tubarov paused, drawing out the torture as Duo sobbed beneath him. Then he grinned and pressed the switch.
Duo’s eyes rolled back in his head and his world exploded. Wave after wave of pure agony assaulted his brain. Dimly, he was aware that someone was screaming, but it sounded far, far away. His body convulsed, and Tubarov reached one arm around his hips to hold him up on his knees, otherwise he would have collapsed against the mattress. Then, it stopped. Slowly, the world came back into focus, his ears ringing and his heart palpitating alarmingly in his chest. It felt like a hole had been burnt out of the very center of his being. Tubarov turned the switch back on, and it all started over again.
Duo had no idea how long it went on for. Tubarov usually paid for fairly long sessions. Time lost all meaning as Tubarov continued to intermittently switch the stun baton on and off. At long last, he became aware that the stun baton had been removed from his ass. In its place, Tubarov’s dry cock was forcing its way in, which was a whole new kind of pain. Duo stared unblinkingly at the wall, his gaze unfocused, as Tubarov’s thrusts rocked his body forward. He was barely aware of the man’s lust-filled grunts or of his own hitching breaths. He couldn’t even scream anymore. His throat felt like sandpaper. Tubarov finally came, shooting his load deep into Duo’s abused ass. Duo barely noticed, lost in a haze of pure agony, as the man cleaned himself up, got dressed, and left the room.
The next thing he knew, Trant appeared at the side of the bed, a huge grin on his face. "Boy, he sure did you over good, didn’t he?" he laughed as he untied Duo’s arms and removed the spreader bar. Duo collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, his muscles cramping in protest, his whole body twitching spasmodically. He continued to stare at the wall with an unfocused gaze, taking uneven hitching breaths, as Trant cleaned the stun baton and put it and the rope and spreader bar back into the cabinet, locking it. He turned to look at the wreck on the bed, still grinning.
"Guess what? I’ll even take pity on you and let you rest for fifteen minutes before I bring the next one in. Aren’t I good to you?" he laughed as he left the room. Duo merely closed his eyes, taking no notice of the tears that spilled down his cheeks, his entire being consumed with pain as he continued to draw labored, painful breaths. The beat of his wildly palpitating heart seemed to fill the room.
* * * * * * * * * *
Quatre rubbed at his chest, which felt uncomfortably tight. He also felt vaguely nauseous. Trowa looked at him with concern.
"Is something wrong, Quatre?" he asked, reaching over to rub his shoulder.
"I’m… I’m not sure. I’m just getting a really bad feeling from this place," Quatre replied uneasily. It was something he’d always had a knack for, picking up on particularly strong emotions and impressions. Nothing had ever affected him as much as the building at 7881 Pine St., though. "There’s… a lot of pain here."
"Someone’s leaving," Trowa said. It was the businessman from earlier. Over the course of the morning they had photographed several people coming and going, but no one had been in there as long as he had, well over an hour. Quatre’s chest tightened even more, and his hands trembled slightly as he raised the camera to take a few shots. The man was seriously creeping him out.
"I can’t wait until this case is over and done with," he murmured.
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***
Part 2
Heero stared resolutely out the window, his lips pressed together in a thin line. From the driver’s seat, Wufei glanced at him surreptitiously. Heero was trying hard not to show it, but Wufei could tell that their meeting with the informant had really shaken him. He could hardly blame him. The meeting had left him feeling rather shaken as well.
The informant had been an unremarkable, slimy low-life in his mid-thirties. The story that he had relayed with a shaky voice had been sickening. Wufei barely repressed a shudder. It was unthinkable. Could there really be a kid chained to a bed in that place? Raped and tortured countless times daily, for who knows how long? Wufei grit his teeth as he recalled the man’s description of the room, a small, poorly lit cell. And the kid himself, huddled on the bed. Naked, a myriad of scars and bruises fully visible. The man said the kid looked up at him when the door was opened, and he had violet eyes. Violet. Wufei shook his head in disbelief. Chief Une had a couple of agents back at Headquarters pouring through missing persons files, trying to get an ID on the kid. How many missing kids with violet eyes could there be out there? The informant had guessed his age at thirteen or fourteen, but admitted that it was possible he looked younger than he was due to his thinness and his long hair.
Wufei pulled up behind the Specials surveillance van and shut off the engine. He and Heero stepped out of the car and walked up to the side of the van. Quatre slid the door back for them and they climbed inside.
"How’s it going here?" Wufei asked as Quatre returned to his seat. He looked at him more closely. Quatre looked decidedly queasy. "Are you feeling alright, Quatre?"
"Everything’s fine, and no, I’m not feeling alright," Quatre answered with a sigh. "This place is making me feel terrible. There’s so much pain and negativity here. And some of those people that have been coming and going to that place…." Quatre shuddered.
"You’re ready to infiltrate the target, Heero?" Trowa asked, taking in Heero’s casual clothes. Heero nodded, his face grim. "Did you find out much from the informant?"
"Yes. He gave me much information on the general layout of the building, and on this man, Trant, who’s the ‘caretaker’ there," Heero answered, his lips curling in disgust. He had never met the man, but already he hated him. The informant had relayed with a shudder how Trant seemed to really enjoy his ‘work’. "Wufei can fill you in on more details. I’m going in." Quatre nodded, and handed him a small transmitter, which he tucked away in his shirt pocket. The tiny device would pick up audio and transmit it to the van, so that the others would know if Heero needed assistance.
Heero exited the van and with a determined set to his mouth walked up to the door of 7881 Pine St. He entered the building and found himself in a lobby-like room, a buzzer sounding to announce his presence. After a few minutes a man entered the room from the door on the right, and Heero recognized him from the informant’s description as Trant. He suppressed a sneer of disgust.
"Can I help you?" the man asked.
"Yes," Heero said, "This place was recommended to me by a friend. It wasn’t really to his liking, but he thought that it was well suited to my… particular tastes. I’m here for some… entertainment." He cocked his head to the side and delivered the code message given to him by the informant. "Enjoyment is, after all, the fruit of life."
Trant’s face brightened now that he knew that Heero ‘belonged’. "Of course, of course! Right this way. My name is Trant," he said, motioning towards the door that he’d just entered from. Heero noticed that he did not ask him his name. Clients of a place like this would value anonymity, and would probably not be asked anything they did not volunteer themselves. "And, uh, just what did you have in mind?"
Heero followed Trant into the other room, where he recognized the setup for a rapid-testing machine. "Someone young, and… spirited." He looked at Trant pointedly, making sure that the man understood what he meant by ‘spirited’. He was grinning knowingly, and Heero’s dislike of the man was growing in leaps and bounds. "I’ve heard that you have someone special here that would meet my needs."
"We sure do. But first, we have to make sure you’re clean," Trant said, picking up a syringe. Heero obediently pulled up his sleeve and submitted to having his blood drawn. The vial was then placed in the testing machine. In less than five minutes, they would know if he had any sexually transmitted diseases. While they waited for the results, Heero listened to Trant list the ‘rules’.
"The rules for our prize attraction are different than the usual ones. First of all, you can do pretty much whatever you want to him, within certain limitations," Trant said with a grin. Heero was horrified, though he hid it well. It had been one thing hearing it from the informant. Some part of his mind had still held onto the possibility that such a thing couldn’t possibly be true. But to hear it for himself… he could no longer deny it. Trant continued. "Nothing that will kill him of course, and nothing that’ll put him out of commission for a while, either. Definitely nothing that’ll mar that pretty face of his permanently." Heero thought he might vomit. The blood test machine gave a small ding, signifying the all clear.
Trant smiled. "Great. Before I continue, there is the small matter of the fee to be discussed. Of course, you’ll get to see him for yourself before any payment exchanges hands. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed, though." He named the different prices for thirty, forty-five, and sixty-minute blocks of time, and said that longer periods of time could also be negotiated. Heero agreed to a thirty-minute session, should he find the boy ‘pleasing’ upon seeing him. "You’ll get the key to his ankle chain. You can leave him fairly loose, or effectively chain his ankle directly to the bedpost. There’s basic restraints attached to the other four bedposts." He grinned. Heero wished very much to remove that grin from his face permanently.
"For the more adventurous, there’s also another key," Trant continued. "For only an extra seventy-five credits, you can have access to our little toy cabinet, which is well-stocked with a wide variety of items, sure to make your experience even more enjoyable." Heero nodded, swallowing back the acidic taste of the bile rising up his throat. Trant opened another door and led him down a dark hallway. Heero mapped out their progress through the building in his head, confirming the details given to him by the informant. They passed another door.
"That’s our video room. We have a wide range of movies for rent or sale, starring our own attractions and clients willing to be filmed, their faces being blacked out after editing, of course. Our prize attraction is the star of a great many of the videos. Interested?" Trant asked, gesturing at the door. Heero shrugged indifferently. Trant nodded. They descended a flight of stairs and Heero found himself in some kind of waiting area. "If you would be so kind as to wait here," Trant said with a smirk. Heero nodded and took a seat. Trant disappeared down another hallway. Alone, Heero’s mind raced with all that had happened. It was true. It was really true. A person, a child, chained away in a basement room, his body sold to clients. It was monstrous. What kind of person had arranged this? It was obvious that Trant was not the mastermind here. Someone else was ultimately responsible for this horror. Heero’s jaw tightened.
Heero looked up as Trant returned, escorting a man in his forties. They were chatting amiably. Trant led the man upstairs and returned a few moments later, once again disappearing down the hallway. Finally, he reappeared and motioned for Heero to follow him. He was led past several doors to the end of the hallway and a heavy, locked steel door. Heero swallowed, suddenly feeling trepidation, but once again did not let it show.
"Now, just to remind you, feel free to hurt him, just nothing too serious, okay? And nothing permanent to the face," Trant grinned. It was all Heero could do not to slam the bastard into the wall. He forced a tight smile. Trant unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing the cell beyond. "This," Trant announced, "is Duo, our prize attraction."
* * * * * * * * * *
Duo suppressed a groan as the door once again swung open, so soon after the last customer had left. If Trant would just let him rest some. From where he lay huddled on the bed, he turned and looked towards the door, to see who Trant had brought to torture him next. It was someone unfamiliar, a new customer come to examine the goods. Duo shuddered inwardly. With the regulars he at least knew what to expect. He never knew how bad a new customer was, never knew if they might be another Tubarov, not until they were finished. He peered more closely at the newcomer, looking for some hint or clue to the man’s proclivities. Duo was surprised by what he saw. He was much younger than most of the men who frequented his cell. The young man stared back at him, transfixed, with stunning blue eyes.
"This," Trant announced, "is Duo, our prize attraction." Duo suppressed a wince. Hearing himself called a ‘prize attraction’ always made him feel like some kind of circus freak. He noticed that the stranger’s lips were slightly parted, his face slack with shock. He was also as white as a sheet. Duo eyed him in confusion. He was acting like he hadn’t expected to see… this. Like he was horrified, in fact, by what he was seeing. Duo pulled nervously on a stray lock of hair. The guy was agitating him. He wasn’t acting like he was supposed to. He fully expected him to turn and bolt like the man Trant had brought a couple of days ago.
"So?" Trant inquired with a smirk. Heero nodded dumbly, swallowing back the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He produced the agreed upon amount of money. Trant grinned and handed over two keys before disappearing out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Left alone with the boy, Heero continued to stare at him with wide eyes. He was shocked. He had never been so shocked in his entire life. With horror and disbelief he took in the cell and its occupant. A naked bulb hanging from the low ceiling bathed the room in sickly yellow light. The walls and floor were bare stone. On either side of the door there was a sink and some shelves and the ‘toy’ cabinet. Next to the sink there was an alcove of sorts that upon closer inspection proved to be a shower. Then there was… the bed. Heero returned his gaze to the frightful sight, his jaw clenched tightly shut.
It was the size of a double, and constructed of heavy iron. The headboard and footboard consisted of iron bars that interlocked with each other in a square pattern. With a shudder Heero realized that it was probably ideal for attaching restraints. As if to confirm this, he saw the menacing-looking manacles hanging from three of the four bedposts. From the fourth bedpost, his eyes traced the path of the chain to the heavy manacle locked around a slim ankle. Heero’s eyes rested once more on the dismal cell’s occupant, Duo. His insides quaked with rage and horror at the sight.
The boy was regarding him with a wary and guarded expression, but Heero could practically smell his fear, intermingling with the other scents in the room. Semen, blood, sweat, all mixed together in the chill air, causing Heero to involuntarily wrinkle his nose. The boy’s eyes were a stunning shade of violet. Heero stared into their depths until the boy nervously looked away, tugging at a lock of chestnut hair. He looked young, so very young. Heero’s eyes ran over the bruises, the welts, the scars that marred his pale white skin, his nakedness revealing all. He thought his heart might burst. How could anyone do this to another human being, to a child? Heero had seen a lot in his short time as a Preventer, especially after being assigned to the Specials, but this… this was a horror he could barely wrap his mind around.
Duo squirmed. What was up with this guy? He was just standing there. Not that he wanted him to do anything. But it was just strange, the way he was looking around the room with that expression on his face, the horror-stricken glint in his eyes. He just wasn’t acting the way most of his customers did. It was like he didn’t belong. Duo fiddled with a lock of hair. The guy’s gaze was unnerving. Unconsciously, Duo began a low-key humming in the back of his throat, a nervous gesture he’d developed over the course of his confinement.
The humming noise broke Heero from his horror-struck reverie. Duo was tugging on a lock of hair, his eyes darting around the room. If Heero looked hard enough he could see the tremor that shook the boy’s slight frame. He was frightened. Heero couldn’t blame him. He thought Heero was here to… to add to the damage done to his body. Just the thought of it sickened him. He swallowed again, but was unable to rid himself of the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his throat.
"I’m not going to hurt you," Heero told him, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. He was not used to comforting people. Duo looked at him sharply, disbelief plain on his delicate features. And why not? He had no reason to believe him. He was a customer. Customers… customers hurt him. Heero had to turn away, his brain threatening to overload at the horror of the situation. Mission, he reminded himself, focus on the mission.
With uncharacteristic clumsiness he fumbled with the keys in his hand and unlocked the ‘toy’ cabinet. This was reconnaissance, and he had to know what was inside. Even if a voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him that he really, really didn’t want to know. He braced himself and swung the doors open. It took all of three seconds for him to come to the conclusion that the voice was right. He really didn’t want to know. His jaw clenched so tightly that he thought he might grind his teeth to dust. The cabinet was well-stocked with ropes, cords, whips, crops, handcuffs, leather restraints, gags, blindfolds, vibrators, plugs… Heero closed his eyes, his rage threatening to overtake him. He wanted to run from this room, to find Trant and inflict a very slow and very painful death on him. He glanced at the kid again. The humming had stopped, and Duo was now openly staring at him, undoubtedly under the impression that he was at the cabinet to chose an item to torture him with.
"I said I’m not going to hurt you, and I meant it," Heero said, though he had little hope of being believed. He spotted what looked to be a baton of some sort in the bottom bin and picked it up to examine it more closely. His fingers hit a switch and the baton sparked to life. It was a stun baton, though Heero judged that it had been tampered with, the charge not seeming significant enough to render a person unconscious. A sharp intake of breath drew his attention back to Duo.
The boy had drawn back against the headboard, his arms wrapped around his legs in a protective posture. He was staring at the stun baton with such a look of unadulterated fear that it made Heero’s mind spin. Then, realization dawned, and Heero dropped the baton in sudden disgust, as if the thing had suddenly become hot to the touch. The reason it had been tampered with… to cause great pain without knocking a person out… it had been used to… to torture Duo… and Duo thought he was going to use it on him, too. Heero thought he might be sick.
The boy didn’t seem to be the least bit comforted now that the baton was no longer in his hands. His thin, ravaged body was visibly tensed, tremors racking his slight frame. His breath came in quick, uneven gasps. His eyes… his incredible violet eyes, were as wide as saucers, and blank with mindless terror. Heero’s mind quaked with rage at the idea of anyone using that thing on him. Mission, focus on the mission, he reminded himself. And he needed to calm Duo down, reassure him that he meant him no harm.
"I’m sorry about that, I don’t know what I was thinking," he said. Now the boy was giving him an incredulous look. Once again, he could hardly blame him. "My name is Heero," he continued. "So, is Duo your real name?"
Duo swallowed hard, not believing his ears. The guy was talking to him? Wanted to know his name? Why should he care? And why was he digging around in the toy cabinet if he wasn’t going to hurt him, as he claimed? And if he wasn’t going to hurt him (which Duo didn’t believe for one second), then what was he doing here? He realized the silence was stretching on, and that the guy might get angry if he didn’t answer him.
"It’s the only name I’ve ever known," he replied, his voice shaking. This was strange, so strange. Why wasn’t the guy doing anything? This had never happened before. Duo didn’t know what to do. He hugged his knees tighter, wincing at the pain in his body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the guy, for fear that he would make some kind of sudden move.
Heero nodded as he shut the cabinet and locked it back up. He began a circuit of the room, examining everything more closely. He kept an eye on Duo to make sure he wasn’t causing him any undue stress. As if his just being there wasn’t causing the kid enough stress. He decided to try to keep them both distracted by continuing the conversation, while at the same time seeing what information he could get from him. He took a deep breath, forcing back all unnecessary emotions about the situation, and began to speak. "So how did you end up here anyway?"
Duo nearly choked. What the hell? No one had asked him that question before. Was it some kind of trick? Had Trant set this up to fool him? But why? He eyed Heero suspiciously. He seemed to be engrossed in examining the shower, giving Duo an occasional glance over his shoulder. Duo remained silent.
Heero was not surprised that the boy was reluctant to talk to him. It was probably pretty unusual for the… ‘people’ who came to see him to express interest in anything other than hurting him. He continued with the questions, though, because the silence would have prompted him to dwell too much on where he was and the circumstances of his being here. He wasn’t ready to do that yet. He didn’t know if he ever would be.
"Trant, is he the guy who brought you here?" he asked as he involuntarily wrinkled his nose with the realization that there was no bathroom, only what appeared to be a chamberpot under the bed. His circuit of the room had brought him to the foot of the bed. Duo looked less than pleased to have him so close. He got no answer to that question either. Heero sighed and examined the chain attached to Duo’s leg. The skin on his ankle was reddened and inflamed from the constant friction of the manacle. Heero’s heart felt heavy. From his closer vantage point his eyes once again traveled up Duo’s body, taking in the damage. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing him, nor how painfully thin the boy was. How the hell was he even still alive? His eyes came to rest on Duo’s face. Violet eyes returned his gaze with a mixture of fear, confusion, and curiosity. Heero’s chest ached.
"Just how long have you been here, anyway?" he asked, not really expecting Duo to answer him.
A strange feeling stirred in Duo’s chest, and he sat up a bit straighter. Could he really find out? Should he risk it? The guy really did seem to have no intention of touching him, as hard as that was to believe. And he was being asked all these questions, maybe he would be allowed a question of his own. He threw caution to the wind and decided to risk it.
"What year is it?" he asked in a small voice, and then braced himself, preparing for the anger that would surely follow his presumptuousness.
Heero raised an eyebrow in surprise, and nearly flinched himself when he saw that Duo feared a reprisal for his question. "It’s the summer of 195," he answered evenly.
Duo digested the information. He swallowed hard, his mind reeling. 195? God…. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to look at Heero again. He closed his eyes. "I…," he began falteringly, "I’ve been here for… for six years…."
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***
Part 3
Heero climbed into the van and stared out the window without uttering a word, his face grim. The four of them sat in heavy silence. Quatre’s face was pale, and Trowa looked as if he might be sick. Wufei swallowed, feeling a little ill himself.
"Well?" he finally asked, breaking the stifling silence. Heero turned to look at him. He had the strangest light in his eyes.
"He is not spending another day in that place," Heero replied, in a voice as cold as steel. Wufei nodded. He certainly wouldn’t be getting any argument from any of them. Heero returned the audio transmitter to Quatre. "We’re going back to HQ. I need to speak with Chief Une," he said. Trowa nodded mutely.
Heero and Wufei climbed out of the van and returned to their car. Neither spoke during the drive back, each lost in their own thoughts. Heero stared out the window expressionlessly. He was glad Wufei was driving. He didn’t think he would have been able to focus enough to drive. He had other things on his mind.
He hadn’t wanted to leave him.
After Duo’s stunning revelation that he had been locked in that room for six years, six years, Heero had attempted to question him further about how he had ended up there. But Duo had been un-talkative, seeming to be stunned himself with the knowledge of the length of his captivity. He had sat silently on the bed, stick-thin arms wrapped around stick-thin legs, staring at the wall. Heero had spent what was left of his thirty minutes staring at the boy, an unfamiliar feeling tightening his chest. When his time had been up, and Trant had knocked on the door, leaving that room without Duo had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He’d wanted to take the boy and flee from that horrible place. But that would have been foolish. People could have been hurt. A plan was needed.
Heero realized he was clenching his fists so tightly that his nails were biting into his skin. He quite deliberately forced them to relax. Wufei glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, concern etched on his features. He could see that this case was really getting to him. Wufei could hardly blame him. It was horrific beyond imagining. And he, Trowa and Quatre had only listened to the audio, Heero had actually been there. He’d seen. Wufei barely suppressed a shudder.
When they arrived back at Preventer HQ, they headed straight for Chief Une’s office. They found her, Captain Noin, and a couple of other Specials pouring over some documents. The Chief looked up when Heero knocked on the open door.
"We go in tonight," Heero said firmly. The Chief looked at him for a moment, her gaze measuring, and then gave a solemn nod.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duo looked up wearily as the door to his cell once again swung open. The last customers of the day had left a few moments before, and he expected to see Trant and the doctor, come to do his nightly check-up. But Trant entered the room alone, an open bottle of wine in his hand. Duo felt fear coil in his stomach as Trant eyed him, taking a long drink from the bottle. He suddenly remembered Trant’s words from the morning.
"You haven’t forgotten, have you?" Trant leered, strolling towards the bed. Duo curled up tighter, shivering with fear. He knew all too well what was in store for him.
"I told you this morning that it had been far too long since I’d given you a proper fucking. I intend to remedy that," Trant purred as he caressed Duo’s cheek. Duo shuddered. He wanted to scream, to run, to get away from here. But he couldn’t get away. There was no place he could go. He was trapped. He closed his eyes. Trant slapped his face, causing him to look up at him.
"What, are you not looking forward to it?" Trant sneered before taking another drink from the bottle. He set it down on the floor and turned to Duo again. "We’re going to have fun tonight, you and I," he smirked, gripping Duo’s mouth in a forceful kiss. Duo choked and tried to push Trant away, but he was far too weak and exhausted. Trant plundered his mouth, and Duo tasted sour wine on his tongue. His stomach twisted in disgust. Finally, Trant pulled away. He sneered and moved towards the toy cabinet. Duo buried his face in the thin pillow and tried not to cry. He was overcome with a profound sense of loneliness.
Trant returned, pushing him over onto his back. He tightly bound Duo’s wrists together with cord, then tied the cord to the railing of the bed, raising Duo’s arms up over his head. Then he produced a roll of duct tape. Duo’s eyes widened, and he started to thrash his head from side to side. But Trant easily grabbed his face and sealed his mouth with a strip of tape.
Duo fought down blind panic. He hated screaming, hated crying out in pain to the satisfaction of his torturers. He always fought to remain silent, though he seldom succeeded. But having his voice stolen from him was so much worse. To be incapable of crying out, of releasing some small measure of his pain, was just… horrible.
Trant grinned maliciously. "You don’t like that, do you Duo?" He caressed Duo’s cheek. Duo closed his eyes and tried to turn his face away, but Trant shook him roughly until he once again opened his eyes. "You can’t get away from me, Duo. You’re mine, and we have all night," Trant leered. Duo couldn’t suppress a whimper. He was so tired, in so much pain. He couldn’t cope with Trant right now. He just wanted to curl up into a ball and slip away into oblivion. But Trant wouldn’t let him.
Trant once again went to the toy cabinet, and returned with one of the riding crops, a smirk on his face. Duo tried to take deep, even breaths, fighting back the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. There was nothing Trant could do that hadn’t already been done to him a hundred, a thousand times. The thought was not comforting.
The crop whistled through the air and landed across Duo’s ribs. He grimaced in pain, his back arching. Trant rained down more blows on his chest, the sharp, stinging pain singing along his nerves. Duo couldn’t suppress whimpers of pain against his gag. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Trant flipped him over onto his stomach and continued to rain blows down on his back, raising angry red welts on the already-scarred skin.
By the time Trant finally stopped Duo felt as if his back and chest were on fire. Tremors of pain shook his frame. He knew this was only the beginning. He watched Trant warily as he picked up the wine bottle and drank from it. There was a sheen of sweat on the man’s brow, and his eyes shone with excitement. Duo’s stomach twisted. When Trant set the nearly-empty bottle down again and began to disrobe, Duo buried his face in the pillow.
The mattress dipped as Trant climbed up onto it, straddling Duo’s hips. Instinctively, Duo found himself pulling at his bound wrists, even though he knew escape was impossible. He fought back panic, tried to escape to a small, quiet place in his mind where nothing could touch him. But reality crushed that slim hope. He bucked and screamed against his gag as Trant ran a hand over the welts on his back.
"Tsk, tsk, so touchy. Though you are so sexy when you squirm," Trant sneered before running his hand over Duo’s back again. Duo managed to remain silent, but couldn’t stop himself from trying to jerk away from the touch. Trant laughed. He leaned forward, and Duo saw spots as the man leaned on his back for support. Trant whispered in his ear. "It’s too bad I didn’t think to bring any salt. It would be fun seeing how much I could make you squirm by rubbing some into these welts, hmm?"
Duo froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Just the mention of salt made the blood run cold in his veins. Trant had never used it on him, but he had, the man who had brought him here. He was so transfixed by his terror that he did not even notice Trant once again shifting position, not until he was shocked back to reality as Trant suddenly entered him.
Duo jerked against his bonds, a startled cry smothered against his gag. Trant, typically, had used no means of lubrication or preparation. Even though he was still somewhat stretched from the day’s previous activities, it still felt like he was being ripped into. Trant laughed at his obvious distress.
"Are you not enjoying this?" he sneered as he drew back and thrust forward again, eliciting another pained whimper from Duo. He leaned forward, pushing brutally into Duo’s body, as he once again leaned down to speak directly into Duo’s ear. "People should enjoy doing the only thing they’re good for." Another brutal thrust, another pained whimper from Duo, accompanied by a half-suppressed sob. "You have no other purpose in life, except this." Another thrust. Duo fought the tears that spilled from his eyes. "You are a whore, and this is what you do." Another brutal thrust punctuated the cruel words. "You get fucked, and you really should learn to enjoy it. This is all you will ever do. This is all you are good for, all you will ever be good for." Another thrust. Duo could no longer stop himself from sobbing pathetically, could not stop the tears that now ran freely. Trant’s words always managed to cut him to the bone. He had hoped that time would soften their impact, that he would grow used to them. But no such luck. Every time they were spoken the words ripped into him just as deeply as the first, as he felt their truth in his soul.
A few more quick thrusts and Trant finished, having never been one with much stamina. He rolled off of the quietly weeping boy and climbed to his feet, panting from his exertion. He turned to look back down at Duo, who’s entire frame was wracked with silent sobs as he buried his face in the pillow. He smirked in satisfaction.
Duo fought to regain some semblance of control. He hated the way his body betrayed him, trembling in pain and fear. He hated the pathetic, choked noises he was making against the tape keeping his mouth shut. Worst of all, he hated the pain that burned in his chest, less tangible that the physical pain that wracked his body. This was a pain born of shame and disgust and self-loathing, always present, but stoked into life by Trant and his taunting. And he knew that Trant was anything but finished with him.
A rustling of cloth brought his attention back to the man. Trant has retrieved his shirt from the floor and was searching through its pockets. He produced a cigar and lighter and let the shirt drop back to the floor. Duo’s gaze froze on the glowing tip of the cigar as Trant lit it. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. Oh, God, no…, he thought. Trant smirked at him cruelly as he puffed on the cigar. He crouched down at the side of the bed.
"Are you scared, Duo?" he leered, rolling the cigar between his fingers. Duo could not tear his eyes away from the glowing red embers, breath frozen in his chest. Trant raised his eyebrow at him in amusement. He moved the cigar forward. Duo jerked away, pulling uselessly at his bound wrists. His lower body almost slid off the opposite side of the bed in his panic. Trant cursed, rising to his feet and grabbing hold of Duo, pulling him back over to the center of the bed and once again straddling his hips to keep him in place. He pressed the burning tip of the cigar against the small of Duo’s back.
Duo wailed against the gag, his entire body going rigid at the excruciating pain. Dimly, he could hear Trant’s laughter. When the cigar was removed from his skin, he was left snorting frantic breaths through his nose, fresh tears spilling down his face. Trant leaned back, puffing on the cigar, causing the embers that had nearly been ground out to burn with new life. He touched the tip to another spot on Duo’s back, causing him to wail and thrash about with renewed vigour.
"This is fun, but I think I want to see your face," Trant mused. He shifted his weight enough to flip Duo over onto his back. Duo grimaced, clenching his eyes shut against tears as pressure was put on the two fresh burns on his skin. Trant shifted again, lifting Duo’s legs and hips, and without warning he once again thrust inside of him. Duo arched against the pain, abused skin being stretched and torn yet again. Trant pulled back and thrust again, building a steady rhythm, and each time he moved forward, he pressed the glowing tip of the cigar against a different spot on Duo’s chest.
Duo screamed and screamed. The noise reverberated in his head, deafening. He knew that the only sounds that he was actually emitting were the pathetic, animalistic wailings permitted by the tape over his mouth. He hated it, hated how desperate he sounded. But he couldn’t help it. The pain over-rode everything. His chest was on fire. Agony shot up his spine. It felt as if each thrust threatened to tear the skin off his back as the rough bed sheet rubbed against the burns and whip-marks. The acrid stench of singed flesh filled his nostrils. Over everything he was dimly aware of Trant’s grunts and chuckles of satisfaction.
It was too much. His senses were overloading. Suddenly the pain was a fading, distant thing, and the world was overcome with blackness.
Duo was snapped back to reality by a sharp blow to his face. He blinked rapidly, trying to orient himself. First, there was the pain that ached in every cell of his body. The awful, burning agony of his chest and back. The sharp, stabbing pain in his ass. A million and one other aches and pains from the day’s activities. Trant was standing over him, still shirtless but having put his pants back on.
"I think you’ve had enough of a rest, sleeping beauty. The night’s not nearly over," he leered. He sat down on the side of the bed and reached over. Duo couldn’t help but flinch, but all he did was rip the tape from his mouth. Duo gasped in several deep breaths, grateful to be able to breathe freely again. Trant leaned over him, caressing his cheek. It was all Duo could do not to shudder. "Oh yes, still lots of fun left tonight. I have a surprise for you. Guess what I went and got during your little nap? I think you’ll really like it," Trant said, his voice dripping with malice. He gripped Duo’s face with bruising force and turned his head to the side, showing him what rested on the small table by the bed.
A box of salt.
Duo’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in fear. No. Trant couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t allow it. It was a game only he was allowed to play. But Trant continued to speak, every word causing the muscles in Duo’s body to clench tighter.
"Oh yes, I think it will be great fun. We’ll see what kind of effect a little salt has on those burns and welts," Trant chuckled. Duo stared dully at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want to hear you scream yourself hoarse for me. That shit may think he owns you, but I’m the one who looks after you, who takes care of you. Tonight you’re going to scream for me, going to writhe in pain for me, and if I’m not satisfied, maybe I’ll get the straight-razor, and see how much you like salt rubbed into some nice, fresh cuts." Trant continued to caress his cheek, his eyes gleaming. Duo swallowed, his blood frozen in his veins. Trant was serious. He was just drunk enough to ignore his orders and do it. Duo was so overcome with terror that he felt curiously numb.
Trant leaned down and kissed him, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth. Duo stared forward with unseeing eyes. He felt so cold and empty and just plain tired. He hurt so much. Everything hurt so damned much. He just wanted it to end. He wanted this pain and misery and fear to be over. Suddenly, he sunk his teeth into the tongue invading his mouth, tasted the tangy copper of blood that was not his own.
Trant pulled back with a startled cry of fury, his hand going to his mouth. He stared down at Duo in complete and utter disbelief. Duo continued to stare silently at the ceiling, though his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He was unable to comprehend himself what had compelled him to do it. Such a showing of defiance was unimaginable. Trant snarled in rage, his fist lashing out to connect with Duo’s jaw.
"You bastard! You fucking little bastard! How dare you! How dare you!" He pummeled Duo with his fists, his eyes ablaze with anger. Duo couldn’t help but cry out at the new pain, instinctively trying to curl up to protect himself from the onslaught. A small voice in the back of his head cried victory. Trant was furious, more furious than he’d ever been. Surely he was going to kill him. Then it would all be over, all the pain, all the suffering. Over. He just prayed that it would be as quick as possible.
Trant pulled back, his eyes glinting with a rage that knew no reason. He stumbled over to the toy cabinet and returned wielding a billy club. He renewed the assault, screaming incoherently in his anger.
Duo was a ball of pain. Every blow from the club reverberated through his spine, through his skull. He hoped that this was it. He hoped so damn much that this was it. That this pain would finally kill him. He felt ribs crunch under a stream of blows. The agony tore screams from his throat. Darkness was tearing at his consciousness, and he welcomed it eagerly. But the rain of blows suddenly came to an abrupt stop, and another angry voice had joined Trant’s. The doctor.
Dully, he raised his eyes. The doctor was here. He’d forcibly pulled the cursing Trant away from the bed. Duo sobbed. He couldn’t help it. He was supposed to die. He couldn’t bear this anymore. He just couldn’t. The pain was too much.
"Are you fucking crazy? Are you trying to kill him?" the doctor was demanding as he restrained Trant.
"The little shit bit me! He needs to be taught a fucking lesson!" Trant bellowed.
"And who do you think will be teaching you a lesson, if you kill his prized possession?" the doctor sneered in response. Trant seemed to calm down a bit. "Good. You’re seeing reason. I don’t give a fuck what he did, it’ll be my hide, too, if you kill him. I’m supposed to be the one keeping him in reasonably good health. Now get the fuck out of here and cool off somewhere. I’ve got to clean him up and see how much damage you’ve caused." The doctor released Trant, shoving him in the direction of the doorway. Trant remained standing there for a moment, panting heavily, eyes still glinting with anger as he gazed back at Duo’s shivering form. But reason won out in the end. He let the bloodied club slip from his fingers.
"Don’t think this is over, you little shit. You’ll pay for this yet. You can count on that," he seethed, before snatching up his shirt and stalking out of the room. The doctor turned his attention back to Duo with unsympathetic eyes.
Duo was barely aware as the doctor untied his wrists and adjusted his leg chain. He was dragged to his feet and promptly had his legs collapse out from under him. The doctor cursed and half-dragged, half-carried him to the shower area, dumping him unceremoniously on the cold cement. Lying on his back, Duo stared up numbly as the doctor turned on the flow of lukewarm water and began to scrub at the blood and cum that coated him with the scrubbing brush, grumbling all the while. Duo hissed in pain when the man touched his burns and none-too-gently prodded bruised and broken ribs.
"I suppose you can handle your hair yourself. I have to fetch salve for those burns. I’ll not lose my position here because you die from infection," the doctor snapped. "Here, you’ll be needing this." He thrust a bottle at Duo and stalked out of the room.
Duo was barely able to rouse himself to a sitting position, pounding head and sharply aching ribs protesting the movement greatly. He stared numbly at the bottle. Jasmine-scented conditioner. They only had him use it when he was going to be paying a visit to his favourite pet. Jasmine was his favourite scent.
So he would be here in the morning. The visits were always in the morning, before anyone else had been at him. Duo was too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to react with anything more than cold dread. He could not for the life of him summon the energy to willingly wash that hated scent into his hair.
The doctor cursed some more when he returned to find Duo still unmoving beneath the stream of water. He brusquely washed Duo’s hair himself. Duo’s stomach twisted as the scent of jasmine filled his senses. When the doctor was finished, he went about performing Trant’s usual duties of cleaning up the bed and room, vocally complaining at being reduced to such. Then he hauled Duo back over to the bed and did his usual examination, stitching internal tears, rubbing salve into his burns, and finally binding his ribs. Duo’s vision swam, the pain of the tight bandage wrapped over the cigar burns being excruciating.
With that Duo was finally left alone. Tears spilled from his eyes, though he had no energy to sob. He hated himself. He cursed his weakness. He cursed the room, which had been his prison for six years. He cursed the man who had brought him here. He cursed each and every man that had ever come to this room to beat, torture and rape him. Mostly, he cursed Trant for not killing him.
* * * * * * * * * *
Some hours later, in the dim light of approaching dawn, there was a flurry of silent, covert activity outside the building at 7881 Pine St.. Across the street, Chief Une of the Special Preventer Crime Unit was seated in the back of the Unit’s communications van, which was serving as HQ for the mission. She touched the com unit at her ear.
"Are all units in position?" she asked. She listened as each unit gave their affirmative. She and Captain Noin exchanged a grim-faced look.
"Move in," she ordered.
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***
Part 4
Duo stirred from sleep, disoriented. His head was pounding, and his entire body was enveloped in pain. He barely remembered drifting off after last night’s visit from Trant. Only quietly crying as he wished fervently to die, and for morning to never come. Though something told him it still wasn’t quite morning. Something had woken him.
He tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it as sharp, stabbing pain radiated from his cracked ribs. He fell back against the mattress, gasping, arms instinctively wrapping around his chest. His first thought was that the doctor was crazy if he thought he was fit to see clients today. Then he remembered that he was coming today. His blood turned to ice in his veins. Was that what had woken him? Was he here already? It was not unheard of for the man to come very early, so as not to take away from valuable time that Duo could be spending seeing customers.
Duo tried to quiet the pounding of his heart and listen for movement out in the hallway. Yes, there was definitely movement out there. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. Every breath caused slivers of agony in his ribs. His entire body was tensed. He didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to see Trant. He didn’t want to see anybody. He wanted to curl into a ball and die.
There were voices now. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but there were definitely several people out there. Duo frowned in confusion. What the hell was going on? The door handle jiggled. More voices. And then suddenly the door burst open and a number of people poured into the room.
* * * * * * * * * *
Heero and Wufei moved down the basement hallway, followed closely by Trowa and Quatre. So far the raid on the building had gone very smoothly. There had only been three guards, none of whom had been seriously expecting an attack. The guard on the first floor had been easily taken by surprise. The other two, on the second floor where the rest of the building’s inhabitants lived, were actually asleep. It seemed that their purpose was primarily to protect the residents from aggressive clients during the day. Heero’s lips tightened. Duo certainly didn’t get that courtesy.
They’d found over a dozen young prostitutes living on the second floor, ranging in age from fourteen to eighteen, and both male and female. They were not prisoners, and each had their own private, comfortable room. They were there of their own free will, seeing working in a brothel as a safer and more attractive option to working the streets. There were the guards to protect them, and all the clients were tested for disease. Only Duo was a special case, kept to cater to clients with more violent tastes.
Trant had been asleep in one of the rooms on the second floor. Trant had been decidedly displeased to see them. He had recognized Heero from his earlier visit, and had been quite vocal in his anger. But he was a smarter man than he looked to be, for he had not resisted when they arrested him. Perhaps having several guns pointed in your direction was very convincing. Heero had actually been a little disappointed, which had surprised him. He had never felt such a strong urge to do violence to a person, and Trant resisting arrest would have been an ideal excuse.
Heero had obtained the necessary keys, and then the four of them had headed for the basement, leaving the rest of the Specials to handle things on the second floor. Trant had grudgingly revealed that there were no more guards down there, but they were not inclined to take him at his word. They moved cautiously, guns drawn.
"This is it," Heero informed the others, stopping in front of the cell door. His heart felt heavy with apprehension. He frowned. He wasn’t used to feeling so… distracted on a mission. Normally he felt cool, calm… focused. But now he felt… worried. He was worried about Duo. He was anxious to see him again, to see that he was all right. He’d never felt this way before. He didn’t understand it. And he definitely wasn’t happy about it.
"Is there something wrong?" Wufei asked after several moments had passed without Heero making a move. Heero shook his head, aggravated at having been noticed in his weakness. He unlocked the door.
"Take it easy, he’s going to be scared and confused to see us," Heero instructed, and then fought back a wince. The others exchanged glances. It was unlike him to express concern. He opened the door, spilling light into the darkness inside.
There was a startled gasp from the room’s occupant as they stepped inside. Heero quickly fumbled for the light switch, spilling sickly yellow light into the room. His heart thudded in his chest. Duo was drawn back against the headboard of the bed, his eyes as wide as saucers. Heero stepped forward. Duo shrank back even more.
"We’re not here to hurt you. We’re with the Preventer Special Crime Unit," Heero explained hastily, feeling nervous and awkward. He’d never felt nervous and awkward before. Duo blinked at him, his eyes going to the gun in Heero’s hand. Heero lowered it. He glanced back at the others. They’d quickly checked the room and satisfied that there was no one else they had holstered their guns. Now they were taking in the room more carefully. And were looking decidedly appalled.
Heero turned back to Duo, stepping closer. Duo shrank back, trembling in fear. Heero frowned. He would not have thought it possible, but the boy looked worse than he had before. He’d recently been beaten. Badly. It was apparent in the fresh, dark bruises and contusions that covered his body. His ribs were wrapped. And fresh welts were visible on his chest. It had all happened after he’d visited yesterday. Rage swelled up inside Heero’s chest. If he’d taken him then, if he hadn’t left him here…
Duo had never felt more confused in his life. Who the hell were these guys? What the hell was going on? He blinked a few times at the one who kept moving closer. He looked familiar somehow… And then it dawned on him. It was the strange guy from yesterday.
"H-Heero?" he asked tentatively. The guy hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t even touched him. He felt himself relax ever so slightly. Heero nodded, looking pleased that he remembered him.
"That’s right. We met yesterday," he said. Duo eyed the other three, who were all examining his room with varying looks of disgust on their faces. What was going on? And then something Heero had said clicked in his mind. Preventer Special Crime Unit?
"You’re like… the police or something?" he breathed. No. No, it wasn’t possible. Was it? It was suddenly very hard to breathe. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be…
Heero regarded Duo silently for a moment. He could see the disbelief in the boy’s eyes, the spark of something resembling hope. An unknown emotion constricted his chest.
"Yes. We’re like the police. We’re here to get you out of here. No one is ever going to hurt you again, I promise," he stated firmly, surprising himself with his own vehemence. He meant that promise with every fiber of his being. Duo stared back at him with wide eyes. Heero could see the war of emotions in them. The boy wanted to believe him, he wanted it very much. But it was hard. Hard to believe that six years of captivity were at an end. He turned to the others.
"Quatre," Heero said, "call the Medical Unit down." Quatre nodded, his face pale. He lifted his com unit and spoke into it softly. Wufei and Trowa were also pale. They were staring at Duo in sick fascination. Trowa looked as if he was going to be ill. As if in confirmation of this, he suddenly spun on his heels and left the room. Quatre frowned, quickly finishing his conversation on the com unit, and followed.
Heero looked down at Duo. Without realizing it he had come to stand next to the bed. The boy was shivering, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. His jaw was clenched, whether with pain or tension or both, Heero didn’t know. His eyes had a faraway look in them, though they continued to look back and forth between Heero and Wufei warily. He didn’t trust the situation. Heero could hardly blame him. He felt that he should do something, offer some kind of comfort, but he had no experience in such things. He felt helpless, something he never felt. He was feeling so many things that he wasn’t using to feeling. It was both confusing and alarming. What did it mean?
"It’s going to be alright," he finally said softly, feeling horribly, terrifyingly inadequate. The boy just stared up at him with those stunning violet eyes.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Trowa?" Quatre asked softly, stepping out into the hall. He spotted him halfway back towards the stairs, leaning against the wall. Frowning, he went to him, touching him gently on the shoulder. "Is something wrong?" he asked, then could have kicked himself. Of course there was something wrong. He’d just been in that room… that cell, too. He just couldn’t let himself feel it, not right now. His natural sensitivity to feelings and emotions would have killed him, if he’d let the horror of that room wash over him. He wasn’t certain how he was managing to hold it at bay. His mental defenses had never been tested so strongly before. Later… later he would let it hit him. Later, he would probably bawl like a little girl. But not now. He couldn’t let it happen now.
Trowa turned to face him, and Quatre was struck by the look on his partner’s face. He’d never seen Trowa look so… desolate. And pale. He was as white as a sheet. Like he was about to pass out or something. Quatre snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging open in shock.
"My God, Quatre," Trowa said, his voice thin. "It was one thing to hear about it, but… but to actually see it, with my own two eyes. I can’t believe it. I can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s too… too horrible…"
Quatre wrapped his arms around him, and Trowa returned the embrace fiercely. They didn’t usually indulge in displays of affection while on duty, but Quatre thought an exception was definitely in order. He didn’t know why he should feel so surprised that seeing the… situation had shaken Trowa so badly. It’s not as if Trowa didn’t have a heart. He was just so good at hiding it. He never had any trouble separating his emotions from their missions, like Quatre often did. Quatre supposed that the same magnitude of horror that was forcing him to slam down his defenses like he never had before had also succeeded in piercing Trowa’s considerable shell. It was getting to all of them. He’d seen it in Heero’s face, and in Wufei’s, too. He felt Trowa shudder. He pulled back a bit to look up into his lover’s face.
"I understand. It’s horrible. There’s no getting around that. But it’s over. We’re getting him out of here," he said softly. He knew that there really were no words that would make Trowa feel better, but he had to say something. But Trowa nodded softly anyway. Just then two members of the Preventer Medical Unit appeared at the end of the hallway, headed towards them. Trowa pulled back from Quatre, embarrassed, and attempted to revert to his usual stoic expression. He was marginally successful. Quatre pulled away, too, but allowed his hand to linger on Trowa’s arm for a moment in one last gesture of comfort before turning to the other agents. He motioned for them to follow and then led them to the cell.
* * * * * * * * * *
Heero looked up as Quatre returned, two Medical Agents in tow. The first, Sally Po, eyed the room with disbelief and distaste before settling her gaze on the bed and its occupant. She shook her head, eyes wide. And then quickly got a hold of herself, approaching the bed with her medical bag. Only the tight set of her face betrayed her feelings. Heero made to move away and give her room, but stopped when Duo looked at him in alarm and made a small noise.
"I’m not leaving. I’m right here," Heero said, not sure why his presence should offer the boy any comfort.
Duo relaxed slightly, though he eyed the woman who’d just arrived with distrust. The fear he’d felt at the prospect of Heero leaving him alone with these strangers confused him greatly. He supposed it was because the man was the closest thing he had to a familiar face in this insane situation. It still felt so unreal. Were they really the police? Where they really going to get him… out? Or was this all some cruel dream? He winced as drawing breath pained his ribs. It sure did hurt enough to be real. The woman knelt next to the bed and started pulling medical supplies out of her bag.
"I’m Agent Sally Po, but you can just call me Sally, okay?" she said with a friendly smile. Duo just stared back at her. "You’re Duo, right?" she continued, her voice soft and gentle. Duo managed a small nod. "Great! I’m just going to look you over, and then we’re going to take you in an ambulance to the hospital, where the doctors will take really good care of you. Is that okay?" Duo pressed his lips together. He didn’t like the idea of any doctors looking after him, not if they were anything like the doctor here. He found himself looking to Heero uncertainly. Wufei raised an eyebrow.
"It’s okay. She’s here to help you. I promised that no one was ever going to hurt you again, and I meant it," Heero said. Duo gave a small nod. He was afraid. But Heero had said yesterday that he wouldn’t hurt him, and he hadn’t. Maybe he could believe him. He lay quietly while Sally carefully checked over his wounds, wincing occasionally when she touched something particularly painful. There wasn’t much she had to do, as the doctor had bandaged him up the night before. She didn’t ask him to spread his legs, for which he was immensely grateful. The idea of a woman looking at him down there made him want to blush. He hadn’t blushed in years. He assumed they were leaving that for the hospital. Sally frowned as she examined one of the burns on his chest that wasn’t covered by the tensor bandages wrapped around his ribs.
"The one who… who ‘looked after’ you, he didn’t bandage these?" she asked. Duo shook his head. Her frown deepened. "They really need to be covered. Burns get infected so easily," she muttered darkly. Duo tensed. She was angry. Was she angry with him? Had he done something wrong?
"Um, some of them are covered…" he said hesitantly, indicating his wrapped ribs. Sally blinked at him.
"He… he wrapped tensor bandages over burns?" she asked in disbelief. Duo eyed her warily.
"Yes…" he finally answered. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Duo felt panic rising. She was even angrier than she’d been before. What should he do? Apologize? Was it even him she was mad at? He didn’t know what to do in this situation! He looked at Heero helplessly.
"Sally…" Heero said. She looked at him questioningly and he nodded in Duo’s direction. She looked back at him and seemed to realize his distress.
"It’s alright, we’ll just have to take care of it at the hospital," she told him reassuringly. She motioned for the other Medical Agent to fetch the stretcher. When it arrived, Heero stepped forward with the other key he’d obtained from Trant. Duo watched in fascination as Heero unlocked the manacle around his ankle.
He blinked. The chain was gone from his ankle. It was gone. He was… free. His heart thudded in his chest, his hand unconsciously going up to cover his mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He felt… shock. He felt… he didn’t know what he felt. It was beyond his comprehension.
Heero leaned down to examine the iron collar and Duo was so engrossed with his manacle-less ankle that he didn’t even notice until he spoke.
"Trant didn’t give me a key for this," he growled, sounding quite displeased.
"He… doesn’t have it," Duo replied softly, hand traveling down from his mouth to the collar. No, Trant had never had that key. He had it. He… Duo swallowed hard. He hadn’t even thought of… of him. Heero was eyeing him, like he wanted to pursue the matter further, but thankfully he did not.
"It doesn’t matter," Heero sighed. "We’ll get it off later." Sally and the other Medical Agent carefully lifted Duo onto the stretcher, then covered him with a blanket and strapped him securely in place. And then they were leaving.
Duo’s heart thudded in his chest. He took one last look around the room that had been his prison for six years, and then they were in the hallway. His fingers gripped the blanket, his knuckles white. He was outside the room! It was… it was terrifying. They filed down the hall and up the stairs, Heero walking beside the stretcher, the other three agents trailing behind Sally, who was pushing it. He was fascinated by everything that he saw, the unfamiliar world that had existed steps from his own, but which for all intents and purposes may as well have been on another planet. And then they reached the door that presumably led outside. Outside…
Duo thought his chest might implode.
"Wait," Heero said, and they all paused. He reached over and plucked the sunglasses from Wufei’s shirt pocket. Wufei gave him a questioning look. "He hasn’t seen the sun in six years," Heero said, looking at him evenly. Wufei paled a little, and nodded in understanding, his lips a thin line. Heero gently placed the sunglasses on Duo’s face.
They opened the door, and wheeled the stretcher outside into the early morning light.
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***
Part 5
The doctor carried out a methodical examination, his face a careful
mask of neutrality. He'd asked that everyone else leave the room, save
for Agent Po, who was assisting him, but panic had flashed across
Duo's face and his eyes had fastened onto Heero in quiet desperation.
Heero had refused to leave. The doctor had been too intimidated by the
look in Heero's eyes to argue.
Heero could not tear his eyes away from Duo's face as the doctor
examined the boy. Some unfamiliar instinct in him made him want to
reach out and take Duo's hand. He didn't understand it. He simply
wasn't the 'holding hands' type. He clenched his fists helplessly,
feeling horribly awkward.
The damage was bad. Heero did not have to be told that. It was
apparent to anyone who looked at the boy. Burns, welts, bruises...
Heero thought dark thoughts about the man called Trant.
Duo bore the examination wordlessly. In fact, he had yet to utter a
word since they'd taken him out of that place. But his white-knuckled
grip on the rails of the bed and the clenched set of his jaw gave away
his heightened state of anxiety. Heero knew the boy had to be scared
and confused. How could he not be? Heero could not even imagine what
might be going through his mind. He seemed to be in some sort of state
of shock.
His com unit beeped. He answered it reluctantly. It was Chief Une,
wanting him and the others to return to headquarters. Agent Po and her
partner would remain at the hospital. Heero grimaced.
"Duo, I have to go. I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise," he
said with uncharacteristic softness. Duo simply looked at him, alarm
evident in his eyes, but unwilling to give voice to it. To open
himself up to that vulnerability. He nodded sharply, looking away.
Heero felt torn. Of course he had to go. It was his job, his purpose,
his mission. But he was needed here. He knew it as surely as he had
ever known anything in his entire life. He had to get back here as
quickly as possible. He gave Duo a quick nod, trying to look
reassuring, and then he spun on his heels and left.
* * * * * * * * * *
When they arrived back at HQ, Heero found Chief Une and Captain Noin
in an interrogation room, questioning Trant. He and Wufei slipped into
the room, while Quatre and Trowa went to assist the other agents in
taking statements from the young prostitutes. Apparently Trant was not
being very cooperative.
"I happen to value my life, so if you think I'm going to tell you who
owned the damned place, you're fucking crazy!" he was yelling as Heero
and Wufei stepped into the room. He looked up at Heero, his eyes
flashing with anger as he sneered. Heero barely suppressed a growl.
The man had the nerve to act like he was the injured party here,
like Heero had somehow betrayed him by going undercover as a client.
"I don't think you're fully grasping this situation," Une said, her
voice filled with malice. "A man in your place, facing the number and
types of charges you're facing, should be much more... cooperative."
Trant sniffed at her contemptuously.
"I'm not saying another word until my lawyer gets here," he said,
leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Une
pressed her lips together in displeasure, but rose from her seat,
realizing she wasn't going to get anything from the man. She gestured
for the others to follow her and left the room. Giving Trant a
menacing glare, Heero turned to follow along behind Noin and Wufei. He
was stopped when the man called out to him.
"Hey there, Mr. Agent," Trant sneered, putting particular emphasis
on the last word. "Come here for a sec, would you?" Heero narrowed his
eyes at the despicable man suspiciously, but came to stand in front of
the table, looking down at him. Trant smirked. "Do you want to know?"
he asked cryptically. Heero raised an eyebrow, but Trant didn't
continue. He simply sat there quietly, smirking up at him.
"Know what?" Heero finally ground out, against his better judgement.
Trant's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward in his chair, as if he was
sharing a great secret.
"What makes Duo so special," he said, leering. Heero's eyes flashed
with anger, and he slammed his hands down on the table. Trant's grin
widened. Wufei had returned to see what was keeping Heero, and
clenched his jaw at the tension radiating from his partner.
"What did you say?" Heero growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"It's because it still hurts him," Trant said, his voice dripping with
glee. "Most kids, they get raped a few dozen times, or a few hundred,
and they die. Oh, their heart still beats and they still draw air, but
for all intents and purposes they're dead inside. You can see it in
their eyes. No better than fucking a corpse. But not Duo. Even after
all these years, each and every time someone fucks him, it's like the
first time. It hurts him like it's the first fucking time. You can
see that in his eyes. He still hurts. And that, my friend, is priceless."
Heero saw red. Somehow he found himself with his fists tangled in the
front of Trant's shirt, slamming him back against the wall with enough
force to make the man cry out in pain.
"You fucking bastard..." Heero breathed, slamming him against the wall
again. "I'm going to fucking kill you." And he meant it. He wanted
to rip the pitiful excuse for a human being to shreds, wanted to see
his blood run, wanted to hear him scream. And it still wouldn't make
up for it. It still wouldn't make up for what the bastard had done to
Duo. He hauled back his fist, ready to pummel the now-sniveling
bastard into oblivion, but Wufei grabbed onto his arm, stopping him.
"He's not worth it! Heero, he's not worth it. If you beat the shit out
of him now you can kiss your career in the Specials good-bye. Hell,
you can kiss your career in the Preventers good-bye. I know you
don't want to give this bastard the satisfaction," Wufei said
urgently, trying to calm down his enraged partner.
Heero didn't want to listen to reason. He wanted to tear the man limb
from limb. But he knew Wufei was right. Trant was not worth throwing
away his career. He let the rage seep from his veins, loosening his
grip on the man's shirt. Trant looked visibly relieved, his face
having gone an interesting shade of white when Heero had attacked him.
Heero felt a small smirk twisting his lips. At least he'd given the
bastard a good scare. But he could still feel the rage boiling beneath
the surface. It confused him. This was a case. Why was he allowing
himself to get so worked up over a case? Why had Trant's taunts about
Duo affected him so... so personally? He gave Trant one last shove,
and then turned to leave the room.
"You'll see what I mean, though!" Trant called after him, regaining
some of his attitude now that the danger had passed. "You'll see what
I mean when you fuck him. I know you're dying to do it. You can't
fool me. You can't wait to fuck him!"
Wufei had to bodily restrain Heero from launching back at the man.
He'd never seen Heero so enraged, so out of control. He pulled his
snarling partner from the room, slamming the door and locking it
behind him. He pushed Heero against the wall.
"For heaven's sake, get a hold of yourself!" he yelled. Heero looked
at him with eyes gone blank with rage, but suddenly sagged against the
wall, the fight leaving his body. He looked back up at Wufei with eyes
that once again held a trace of reason.
"I'm sorry... I don't know what happened there. Let's go see what else
the Chief needs us for. I want to get back to the hospital as soon as
possible," he said. With that he turned and headed down the hall,
still breathing heavily from exertion.
Wufei stared after him. Back to the hospital? Back to see Duo... Well,
they were certainly going to have to go get the kid's statement. But
Wufei knew that that wasn't what Heero had in mind. Heero just wanted
to see Duo. He cared about him. Trant's taunts echoed in Wufei's
head. Surely they weren't true. Heero couldn't be interested in the
kid in that way. Heero had never shown much interest in personal
relationships, aside from the close friendships he shared with his
partner and with Quatre and Trowa. It was just his nature. For all
Wufei knew, he was still a virgin. There was no way he could possibly
be interested in that, that kid, who had to be at least six or seven
years younger than they were. There had to be some other explanation
for why he seemed to care so much about him. There had to be. With a
sigh, Wufei followed Heero down the hall.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was late afternoon before they wrapped up at HQ. The other kids
from the brothel had all been interviewed and given quick examinations
by agents from the Medical Unit. None of them were injured, so they
were turned over to the Juvenile Unit, who would find placements for
them. The building was being combed over by the Forensics Unit,
gathering evidence. Tomorrow morning the Specials were sure to have
piles of collected evidence to sort through. But for today, the work
was done. Except for Duo. They still needed his statement, if he was
up to it. Chief Une had no objection when Heero immediately
volunteered. Quatre and Trowa opted to accompany Heero and Wufei to
the hospital, though the two of them were officially off-duty.
When they arrived back at the hospital, they found that Duo had been
assigned to a private room in the ICU. Sally Po was still with him.
Informed of their arrival, she met them outside his room. Heero walked
past her and straight to the observation window, staring through the
glass at Duo. The boy laid on the bed, heavily bandaged, an IV dripping
fluid into his arm. His eyes were fixed on the window, and the expanse
of sky that lay beyond, quickly darkening from day into evening. There
was a mix of wonderment and disbelief on his face. Heero felt an
unfamiliar lump in his throat. It was a view the boy had not seen in
six years. He tore his eyes away and fixed his attention on Sally, who
was patiently waiting for him.
"So?" he inquired. Sally sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily.
"I know I don't have to tell you it was bad. You could see that very
well for yourselves. But... it was bad. He was beaten pretty
severely only a few hours before the raid. He has numerous fractured
ribs, and a fractured sternum. Luckily the x-rays haven't shown any
complications to his heart or lungs, beyond the pain, of course,
though he'll have to be closely monitored for the next few days.
There's a fairly bad concussion... I'd say he's lucky his skull wasn't
fractured. As for the burns..." She grit her teeth, her eyes looking
to the observation window before she continued. "We had to soak the
tensor bandages off of them. I can't believe that someone was so
idiotic as to wrap tensor bandages over burns. To use tensor bandages
on fractured ribs at all... the injuries could so easily have been
aggravated..." She shook her head in disgust. "The burns were caused
by a... a cigar. Two fresh ones on his back, fourteen on his chest.
They've been properly cleaned and bandaged. There were welts, too,
probably caused by some kind of whip. Some of them broke the skin
enough that they'll probably scar. A few more to add to the numerous
scars he already has..." She frowned, gritting her teeth again. "There
were other injuries, of varying age... more welts and bruises, some...
electrical burns... and, of course, injuries from sexual assault. We
did a rape kit and took some samples. Stitches would have been
necessary, but at least that so-called doctor who was looking after
him was competent at that. So much scarring, though... it's been
happening for such a long time. I don't know how he's survived. If not
physically, then mentally. The hospital's going to send a rape crisis
counselor to speak to him in the morning. What he's been through...
it's beyond imagining." She returned her gaze to them, her eyes filled
with weariness. She looked at Heero. "He hasn't said a word. I
think... I think he's been waiting for you, though." Heero gave her a
curt nod, looking again through the window at Duo, whose eyes were
still fixed on the sky.
"Why don't you go home? I'm sure it's been a long, hard day," Quatre
suggested gently. Sally nodded tiredly.
"First we have to stop back at HQ. Agent Williams took a photographic
record of all the injuries and scars, and they have to be dropped off,
and we have to file our own reports," she said, gesturing at the quiet
woman sitting in one of the waiting chairs with a camera bag in her
lap. She turned to Heero. "I suppose you can try and get a statement
from him tonight, but it'd probably be better to give him some time. I
doubt he'll talk to anyone but you, though. I'll be back here
tomorrow, too. We're going to need more information about the care
that he's been given. It's apparent that he's suffering from
malnutrition, but he wouldn't answer any questions today.
Understandable, with the shock that he must be feeling. We can try
tomorrow." With that she bid them good night and she and her partner left.
Heero remained for some time at the observation window, watching Duo
as he watched the sun set. The tightness in his chest was an alien,
unfamiliar thing. He wanted Duo to be okay. He needed him to be
okay. Where the hell had this feeling, this need, come from?
Quatre came to stand beside him, his eyes also fixed on Duo. "God, I
can't even imagine it," he said. "To have that happen to him, so
much. God, he's... he's been raped thousands of times!" Heero
started, canting his gaze at Quatre with something akin to horror.
Quatre nodded to himself, oblivious to Heero's scrutiny.
"I mean, if he was there for six years... say a conservative estimate
of four customers a day... and Trowa and I certainly saw more than
that yesterday... and even say only three hundred days a year...
that's still over seven thousand times..." Quatre continued, his
eyes haunted.
"Quatre... Shut up," Wufei said, his voice strained.
"Hmm?" Quatre said. Wufei gave him a pointed look. Quatre looked at
the others. Trowa looked decidedly green, as if he was going to be
sick. Heero's fists were clenched so tightly he was surprised blood
wasn't dripping from his palms, and the _expression on his face was
deadly. Quatre flushed with shame, but Heero had already turned his
attention back to looking through the glass.
"What's going to happen to him?" Heero asked, after they'd been silent
for a long moment. Wufei blinked at him, suspicion stirring as to why
he would ask such a question.
"Well, they've been unable to get an ID on him. So unless he provides
one, and he has family to take him in, I imagine they'll find a foster
placement for him, once he's well enough to be released from the
hospital. Or, more likely, considering his age, a group home," he
replied. Heero frowned.
"I want him to stay with us," he said finally. Wufei nearly choked.
"What?!" he said. Quatre and Trowa stared at Heero in astonishment,
though they remained silent.
"I want him to stay with us," Heero repeated, more firmly. "There's
plenty of room. He won't survive in one of those group homes."
"But... but we aren't even registered as a foster home... there's no
way social services would agree to it..." Quatre sputtered in shock.
"One of your sisters... Janice... or something..." Heero inquired.
"Jana?" Quatre said.
"Yes, Jana. She works with social services, doesn't she? District
supervisor or something? She could arrange it, couldn't she?" Heero
asked, turning his piercing gaze on the blonde.
"Um... I suppose... it's possible..." Quatre answered, looking at
Wufei and Trowa uncertainly.
"Look... He's going to need a lot of... of care. Do you honestly
think that you... that we can handle it? That we're qualified to
look after a severely traumatized teenager?" Wufei asked. Heero looked
at him, his eyes dead serious.
"Do you honestly think he'd be better off in a group home, where no
one knows him or gives a shit about him?" he asked. Wufei looked away,
not having an answer. "Do any of you seriously object to this?
Especially you, Quatre, since it's your house. He needs us. I know he
does," Heero said, looking through the glass again. There was silence
for a long time.
"No," Quatre finally answered, his voice firm as he, too, looked
through the glass. "No, there's no objection. If you're sure, I'll
call Jana as soon as we get home tonight." Heero nodded, even as
uncertainty stirred in his chest.
It was the right decision, wasn't it? The thought of Duo ending up in
some impersonal group home... it was just unbearable. He would be much
better off with them, wouldn't he? What Trant had said... that had
nothing to do with it. Of course he didn't want to have sex with him.
Duo was just a kid, for Christ's sake. A kid who'd had far too many
people take advantage of him sexually, as Quatre had made painfully
clear. No, he couldn't possibly be attracted to him. He was just...
worried, concerned. But even that was strange. He just didn't get
emotionally involved in cases. It was unheard of. That it was
happening now... well, there had to be some explanation. One that
didn't include him wanting to have sex with Duo. The thought was...
was repugnant. What kind of law enforcement agent would be sexually
attracted to an underage sexual assault victim? No, it just wasn't
possible. He just wanted to take care of him. He didn't know why,
couldn't explain why. He just knew he had to.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duo couldn't tear his eyes away from the window, as day darkened into
night. The sun had hurt his eyes, but he didn't care. The sight had
been almost hypnotizing. It had been one he'd thought he'd never see
again.
It would be an understatement to say that he felt confused. He
couldn't believe what was happening. Somehow, he was out of that
room, that cell. Somehow, he was seeing the outside world for the
first time in six years. He'd felt a breeze on his face, between
leaving the building and being loaded into the ambulance. It still
seemed unreal. He lifted a hand to his cheek, remembering the gentle
caress of the wind on his skin.
He was... free. Wasn't he? In a hospital. A real hospital, where a
real doctor had examined him. Had given him real drugs, drugs that had
dulled the terrible pain for the first time in years. Though the
examination itself had been... unpleasant. He didn't like that they'd
taken pictures of him. But the worst part had been when he'd had to
spread his legs. As incompetent and hurtful as he'd been, the old
doctor had at least been someone... familiar. Having some stranger...
examine him down there, however clinically, had still been...
humiliating. He didn't know why it should be. Enough strangers had
certainly seen him naked over the years. They'd even taken pictures
of... down there, when they'd examined him. Having Sally there
had... helped. She had been okay with Heero, so he found himself
trusting her... to a certain extent. He still hadn't wanted to answer
any of her questions. Why Heero's okay should mean so much to him...
he had no idea. But yesterday... Heero had said he wouldn't hurt him,
and he hadn't. And today... today, he'd gotten him out. All the pain
and humiliation of the examination couldn't change the fact that he
was out. He thought his chest might burst.
But he was still out there. He would not be pleased that he had...
that he had been rescued. Heero had rescued him. He felt a tightness
in his chest that had nothing to do with his fractured ribs. Heero had
promised that no one would ever hurt him again. But could Heero really
protect Duo from him?
TBC
* * * * * * *
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
*flees*
Amanda 02
Angst Addict
Wifey to bow ryu! ^_^
http://www.livejournal.com/users/amanda_02/
"Because I love you I want to rip you apart. I want to pile corpses
before you."
- Muraki to Tsuzuki, 'Yami no Matsuei'
"There's nothing to writing. You just sit at the keyboard and open a
vein."
"Both ways... it's the only way to swing."
"You can't commit me... who'll feed my cat?"
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